Harry Potter and the Fists of Wrath
by Battle Fries
Summary: A terrorist group called The Fists of Wrath launches a devestating attack on Paris, and promises more if the EU doesn't break apart. Harry & Co. set out to track them down before Europe is destroyed. Part Two of The Dark Lord's Legacy: ON PERMANENT HIATUS
1. Prologue: Celebration

PROLOGUE: _Celebration_

Harry was beside himself with mixed feelings of joy and anxiety. Only hours ago, Madam Pomfrey had confirmed that he and Ginny were to have a baby, which was as happy news as any man could hope for. However, there was also the darker matter of this new evil he must face.

Rowanda Lanskey, The Great Healer, or whatever it was that she was calling herself, had informed Harry just minutes before this joyous news that the Seven Deadly Sins would be appearing in some corporeal form, and that Harry had to be the one to defeat them. One of them, Pride, was already dead in the form of Voldemort. But by creating his horcruxes, he had unleashed Sloth, Lust, Envy, Wrath, Gluttony, and Greed, if Harry's memory served him correctly.

But for now, Harry was celebrating with his lovely wife, and his best mate, Ron, along with his wife, Hermione. Bill, Charlie, Fred, and George had come by Grimmauld Place to celebrate. Percy had congratulated them over the Floo network, but claimed to be too busy to come in person.

The rest of the world might be too caught up in the preachings of the Great Healer, the self-appointed prophet of world unity, but fortunately the Healer had deigned to leave Harry and his friends alone, on the condition that Harry seek out and destroy these Sins. Harry leaned back in his chair, quite content with his life as it was right now.

That's when the harsh cries of the Air Raid sirens started to sound.


	2. Chapter One: Attack

CHAPTER ONE: _Attack_

Everyone got up with a start. "What the hell is that noise?" said Fred in nothing more than annoyance.

"Could be Percy's had a row with someone at work. He does get rather loud when he's angry," George conceded.

"You idiots!" yelled Hermione. "Those sirens mean that London is being bombarded! Someone's just declared war on Great Britain!"

"What!" came the simultaneous cry from everyone else in the room.

"Some muggle government must have decided to launch a strike against Britain. Only thing is that I don't hear any blasts outside," said Hermione. Waving her wand, she turned on the Wizarding Wireless Network device in the lounge where they all were.

A female reporter appeared in front of what looked like a wasteland of ash. In the distance, Harry thought he could see a familiar structure half-destroyed on its side. "…an attack from a muggle satellite, a metal device orbiting the globe, successfully launched a weapon known as a hydrogen bomb at the heart of Paris," Harry and Hermione gasped,  
"leaving the city in ruins. Mediwizards from all over the EU have responded immediately, trying to save anyone they can, though from the looks of things, there may not be much to find. No one knows who launched the attack, as the satellite was unmarked, unlicensed, and self-destructed upon the success of its mission. The European Ministry and Healing Hands both urge extreme caution in light of this horrific event, and to not revert to hasty or hostile action against anyone. If anyone is able to provide the Ministry with any information, or wishes to contribute to relief effort, contact your local Auror office or hospital immediately."

The reporter continued to drone on, but Harry's attention came back to the lounge in Number Twelve. "A hydrogen bomb…" he whispered. He'd heard of them, back when he attended primary school with Dudley, and he's heard of the horrors that had been Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Supposedly, the damage done to those cities was child's play compared to the havoc wrought upon Paris. "But why are the sirens sounding here if the attack was in France?" said Harry, though he was afraid he knew the answer.

"Because," said Ginny annoyedly, "all of Europe is one nation now. An attack in the Netherlands would have set off the sirens just the same as France, or Spain, or any other European country." Sighing, she hung her head. "European _province_," she corrected herself bitterly. "There are no independent European countries anymore, thanks to that traitor, Lanskey." She spat the name.

Harry nodded. Rowanda Lanskey had been the Hogwarts Potions professor up until a few hours ago, when Headmistress McGonagall had fired her. Leading a seemingly worldwide cult under the name of 'The Great Healer' seemed to play in the minds of Harry and his friends as not the friendliest of scenarios. The fact that Ron had been temporarily brainwashed into said cult was also disturbing. Now, however, he was back to normal, though only by Lanskey's own accord out of respect to Harry.

"Harry, mate, you don't think this could have anything to do with those Sins you told us about, do you?" Harry had told them all about the Sins in a short break from the euphoria of the news of a baby.

Harry nodded. "If they can't trace it, then it probably is. Most of the world is heeding the Great Healer's call for non-violence. This attack is just so out of place! I have no idea where to start!" He hung his head in frustration.

"Mate, that's obvious," said Ron. "We start in Paris. Any leads we find will be there, at least at first. And don't give us any of that 'I can't risk losing you,' stuff, Harry! You know we're coming with you."

Harry grinned. He had indeed been about to name this as his burden, and his alone. But then, where would he have been without Ron and Hermione all these years. "All right, but…"

"No! No buts!" came Ginny's sharp reprimand. "If there's anything I can do to help, I'm doing it, Harry! Don't use our baby as a shield for me; I stand a better chance with you lot than I do on my own."

Sensing that it was futile to argue, Harry threw up his hands in the air. "All right! Let's all get going. You also coming?" he asked of the other Weasleys.

Bill shook his head. "Sorry, but Gideon and Fabian are starting Hogwarts in a few weeks, and I want to make sure that they get off on the right foot. You know, so they don't need 'healing.'" Bill and Fleur had named their twin sons for Molly Weasley's two brothers, who had died as heroes in the first war with Voldemort.

Charlie said, "I'll see if I can get some of the healers who help us with burns and such to aid the wounded, but I don't know how much help we can be in tracking down whoever's behind this."

Harry nodded understandingly. "Fred, George, you game this round?"

The twins looked at each other. "Sorry, mate," said Fred. "We'd love to help,"

"But we feel that our place is here," said George.

"And by 'here, we mean the shop. Nothing personal,"

"It's just that we've always been inventors,"

"Businessmen, you know?"

"Never been the best combatants, have we, Fred?"

"Can't say as we have, George."

Harry could not help but chuckle at the twins' dialogue. Those two never failed to amuse or impress. "In that case," said Harry, "We'll be off. But first, we should all use _Protego_ to shield ourselves from the radiation. Poison from the bomb," he explained, seeing the look of confusion on Ron's face.

Ron nodded and used the charm on himself, followed by Ginny and Hermione. "Eiffel Tower, then. Let's be went, then!" And with four cracks, the two couples were gone.


	3. Chapter Two: Trailing After Breadcrumbs

CHAPTER TWO: _Trailing After Breadcrumbs_

Arriving in Paris, Harry was greeted a landscape covered with the remains of fallen buildings and fallen people. Even in the most horrid of showdowns with Voldemort, Harry had never seen anything so horrible. It was the cries from the barely-living that disturbed him the most. Harry was no murderer, but he almost wished that these poor souls had died in the blast, and wouldn't have to suffer as they were now.

The four of them charmed themselves so that French would sound like English to their ears, and hurried over to where a crowd of wizards was gathered, apparently organizing relief effort. One of them spotted Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, and called out, "Over here! Any help you can give, we need it, please!"

"We're coming! Don't worry!" Hermione called back. As they arrived at the large huddle of wizards, they found themselves in the middle of a flurry of discussion.

"It's all my fault. I didn't take them seriously enough. I never thought _anyone_ could do anything like this!"

"Be reasonable, Counselor. No one could expect you to give into terrorists' demands! Nothing will break European Unity, not with the Great Healer on our side!" Harry didn't recognize the second speaker, but the first he recognized as the former Minister of Magic for France, now a Counselor for the European Congress.

Ron broke in. "Terrorists? What do you mean? You know who was behind this? Why wasn't in the news just now?"

A third person sighed. "Information hasn't gotten out yet, and it didn't seem like anything to take seriously. We figured that with the protection of the Great Healer, we were invulnerable." He started to weep. "How could this have happened! What do these people even want!"

The Counselor, whom Harry remembered as Jean Toloure, said, "We have no idea what they want, except to cause as much destruction as they can, and I heavily doubt that this horrendousness will stop here, I'm sad to say. They call themselves 'The Fists of Wrath,' and they haven't given any indication of what they want, other than for France to break away from the EU. There was a message warning of 'terrible retribution' if we didn't comply, but I never imagined…"

Harry's mind was racing. "Fists of Wrath," he muttered to himself. The cold certainty of the situation hit him like a slab of stone in the face. _Not their cause, but their leader. The Sin of Wrath._

Just then, a large black raven swept down from out of the sun and dropped a large piece of black parchment onto the ground. It started to unfold, and it started to cover far more area than it initially appeared to be capable of. It started folding upwards, and then backwards, until a large, black head was staring at them, hovering above the ground. Harry thought the face looked vaguely familiar, but it was very hard to tell, as the parchment only revealed so many details.

It spoke in a deep, booming voice, "This is the price for defying my will! Look about you, and witness the fate of the rest of the world should I be defied again! Take this message to your leaders: If the European Union does not disband, in both muggle and wizarding forms, then it will meet the same fate as Paris! None shall be spared! One by one, you all shall fall into ruin! You have been warned!"

And the parchment folded itself back up until it was no more than a large slab of paper. The raven swept down, picked it up, and started to fly away. While the others were babbling about what to do about the terrorists, or how best to organize relief effort, or any number of other things, Harry shouted out, "Are there any brooms nearby!" Harry intended to follow that raven back to its source, and hopefully find a lead back to Wrath.

Someone said, "I have some here," and he opened a duffel bag and magicked out a long shelf full of broomsticks. "You going to head out and care for the wounded?"

Harry was already mounting a broom, as were Ginny, Ron, and Hermione, taking their cues. "In a sense, we are." It was true, Harry thought. By stopping Wrath before he could carry out his threats (at least Harry thought it was a him, if the parchment-face had indeed been Wrath), then Harry would be saving countless others. "Hermione, you may want to ride double with Ron. You've never been the best flyer." But there was no need to tell her, for she had already climbed onto her husband's broom.

"All right! Don't let that raven out of your sights! If you lose it, just follow me!" Harry told his friends. It was no boast that he was the best flyer amongst them. "Let's go!" And the three brooms sped off the ground in pursuit of the large, black messenger of Wrath.


	4. Chapter Three: The Island

CHAPTER THREE: _The Island_

Harry felt numb between his legs. He, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione had been flying eastward for hours, with no sign of stopping anytime soon. Hermione had fallen asleep, and Ron had needed to perform a binding spell to keep her on the broom with him. Harry could still see the raven, if only barely. Right now, he didn't care about the International Statute of Secrecy; if they were spotted, they were spotted, but at least they'd be doing something that needed to be done.

Something caught Harry's eye upward a bit. It looked like a cloud, but it was … darker than the others. More shadowy, despite the sun shining clearly on it, and the raven was making straight for it. Harry motioned with his hands for Ron and Ginny to follow him and the raven. Harry could see Ron waking up Hermione just as he sped off towards the dark cloud.

The raven was gaining speed, and then finally disappeared into the cloud. Harry silently sweared at the prospect of flying through a cloud, but braced himself for the wet cold as he headed into it.

But it wasn't wet, or cold. It was dark for a bit, though, but then they emerged into a clear patch of sky, far larger than the area of the cloud. And there, hundreds of feet above the Earth, was a floating island. Two mountains rose on either side; one emitting lava, the other water, and their flows seemed to combine in the middle to form a lively, green island in the sky.

Harry was so transfixed by the sight of the island that when he came to, he'd lost sight of the raven! Looking at the others, it seemed the same thing had happened with them. Motioning with his hand, he signaled them to land on the island. Harry set down on a grassy meadow, followed closely by Ginny, Ron, and Hermione. "What do you suppose this place is, huh?" said Harry.

Hermione shook her head. "I have no clue, Harry! I've never read anything about floating landmasses before! This is something … I don't know how to describe it. It doesn't seem like your stereotypical 'evil lair,' though. It feels so natural."

Ron nodded. "Yeah, I know. Like a page out of a fairy tale or something, but more real." Looking around, he said, "So, where do we start looking for whatever it is we're looking for?"

Harry didn't have an answer for that. Fortunately for him, Ginny did. "We cover this meadow and look for any buildings, or any places where buildings could be hidden. Either of those two mountains or the ground we're standing on could house some hidden bunker, or something."

Harry nodded. "Right, but we stick together. We don't want to get separated and wind up in a position where we can't help each other." They all took out their wands and headed forward. There didn't look like anything other than grass in plain sight.

"I still haven't the foggiest idea what we're looking for," said Ron.

"We'll know it when we see it," said Hermione. But just then, as Hermione took a step, an odd pattern started to glow in the ground about her. It looked like two circles, with a series of triangles and pentagrams inscribed and circumscribed about them. "Ron," said Hermione worriedly.

"Hermione! What is it? What's going on?" said Ron concernedly.

The glow brightened, so much that it was becoming hard to see Hermione, and she seemed unable to move. "Ron! Harry, Ginny! Run!" she cried as she pointed behind them, just as the glow almost blinded them with it's brightness, and then Hermione was gone.

Harry turned around, wand raised, only to find himself staring down what was unmistakably the barrel of some kind of assault rifle. Soldiers in camouflaged clothing were standing up all around them.

Ginny saw them and pointed her wand at the nearest one as if to hit him with a spell. Just as the red glow of a stunning spell was forming on the tip of her wand, a jet of red light hit her square in the chest, knocking her off her feet, unconscious. Harry looked and saw the smoking barrel of a gun pointed right at her. Looking around at what appeared to be around thirty-or-so soldiers, Harry let his wand fall to the ground. "Drop your wand, Ron," he said in defeat. "We've lost this round."


	5. Chapter Four: The Mystery Army

CHAPTER FOUR: _The Mystery Army_

Hermione had spent the last two or three hours surrounded by green-clad soldiers in the middle of a long, black room. She was unbound, though her wand had been taken, and she knew better than to protest. Even if she'd had her wand, there was no way she could stun all twenty or thirty-odd soldiers before one of them shot her. They lined the walls of the room, guns and faces all trained on her (though their faces were hidden behind black face shields).

There was a muffled clunking sound, and Hermione heard a hissing sound from behind her. Turning around, she saw the wall folding down into a ramp. The room now opened into a cave of some kind. A prod to her back by a soldier's gun prompted her to move forward. As she was led towards a hallway, she looked back and saw that she'd been on what looked like a troop transport helicopter. How she'd ended up there from that aerial island boggled her mind, so she waited for what she assumed would be either an interrogation or torture session. She wanted to cry out in terror, but knew it would do her no good. She would face the situation bravely, and hopefully she'd make it out alive.

After being led through a number of winding hallways, she was thrust into a very dark room, and the door was closed behind her without any of the soldiers accompanying her. A dim light shone from the ceiling upon a simple wooden chair. "Sit down," came a hoarse, male voice from somewhere in the room. Hermione didn't know if she was too frightened to protest, or if some outside force was acting upon her, but she sat down in the chair without hesitation.

"I hope you're proud of yourself, Ms. Weasley, or would you prefer I call you Hermione?" came the voice, full of resentment and scorn. "Months of effort wasted because you just had to trigger that trap before it was meant to be used! Do you have any idea how long it took to place those traps on that island, in the hopes of ensnaring the one running the place! Our agent managed to escape just in time, and he tells me that the Fists of Wrath are now combing the island, looking for the rest of them!"

Hermione simply sat and listened, eyes wide. She had no idea who this man was, but it seemed he was an enemy of this terrorist group. _The enemy of my enemy is my friend, I suppose_. "Who are you? How did I get here? What-"

"Shut up! Shut up! _Shut up!_ I'm too hungry to carry on with you asking all these questions!"

Hermione had to stifle a smirk, that even this … whoever he was, could be subject to the needs of the body as much as anyone. But then came another voice, that of an old woman.

"Oh, do be quiet and go satiate yourself! The poor girl doesn't need your ramblings from your constant need for food!" There was some inarticulate grumbling, followed by what sounded like a shuffling of feet away from Hermione. There was a sound of metal creaking, and then clamping. "There now. I'm sorry, but he can get rather nasty when he's hungry. It's a wonder he stays so slim."

Something about this woman's manner soothed Hermione's tense muscles, though her mind told her to stay sharp. "Thank you, I think." Hermione didn't know what else to say.

"It's all right, Ms. Weasley. Or would you prefer Hermione? Please, do tell me."

"Hermione. Hermione's fine, please." Something told her that she shouldn't get on first-name basis with whoever this was, but it was too late now.

"Very well, Hermione," came the soft voice of the old woman (whom Hermione still could not see). "We are part of a group dedicated to finding and eradicating the Sins that have been unleashed upon the Earth. More people know about them than you would think," she said at the look of shock on Hermione's face.

"I see," was all Hermione could think of to say for a time. "Why are you using Muggle soldiers? They wouldn't be that effective against these things, would they?"

A soft chuckle greeted these words. "You'd be surprised, Hermione. These are indeed Muggle soldiers. The Great Healer taught us that Muggles are not to be feared, scorned, or kept in the dark, as was the case only a few years ago."

Hermione's face instantly became a scowl. "So this is the covert military branch of Healing Hands, is it?"

Another chuckle. "No, no. Far from it. We are not affiliated with Healing Hands. In fact, we try to keep as much distance between us and them as possible. Their magic is powerful, very powerful. Something that we would not be smart to oppose. Not yet, at least."

Hermione's mind was racing. Could these people, whoever they were, possibly help them get rid of the Great Healer's influence? Hermione once more cautioned herself not to take everything at face value. "Why do you need me, then? Why am I here?"

"Well, now! That is an interesting story! You see, we had one of our agents infiltrate the Fists of Wrath some time ago, and this agent (who just barely made it away) set up traps designed to capture Wrath himself once we set our plans into action. Your arrival accidentally triggered one such trap prematurely, and thus you were brought here. However, you may be able to help us, Hermione! You can help us identify this base where the Fists of Wrath operate out of, and hopefully aid in taking it over and destroying Wrath." There was a long sigh. "Our agent also reports that your husband and friends were taken captive by Wrath's forces."

Hermione nodded. "Yes, I saw other soldiers closing in on them just before I was taken here." She sighed. "I can't believe that so many Muggles are now ensnared in this horrid chain of events!"

"Not to worry, Hermione. These soldiers are the best of the best! They have been given special training, and their weapons have been equipped with wand materials to enable them to use limited combat magic. Unfortunately, the enemy will also have made such assurances, I have been assured." The old woman sighed. "Oh, how I wish _I_ could have as brilliant a fortress as those Fists of Wrath! Such an elegant aerial island, don't you think?"

Hermione didn't know what to say to this, but she nodded all the same."

"Yes, we tend to want what we cannot have. But that makes it all the more tempting!" The woman's voice was starting to turn slightly manic. "But, Hermione, you must be exhausted after this ordeal. I'll have someone take you to a room to rest. It may not be the most comfortable, but it should do. If you need anything, just tap your wand to the mirror in your quarters, and either I or my ravenous associate will be with you shortly."

The door opened behind her, and two green-clad soldiers flanked Hermione's chair. "This way, ma'am." Hermione didn't want to trust these people all of a sudden, but couldn't think of any way out of the situation. "Now!" barked the soldier. Hermione rose and turned around, not wanting to spend any more time with the old woman whom Hermione most definitely did not trust. Not entirely, at least.

After being led through numerous, dimly-lit, winding halls, a door slid open and Hermione was treated to a small room that seemed to be meant for Muggle soldiers. Hermione took one step inside, and the door slid rapidly shut behind her. There was a bed, sink, and toilet, with a small wall-mirror just above the sink. Underneath the sink, there were a few simple towels. As Hermione sat down on her hard, metal bed, she couldn't help but ask aloud, "So am I a guest, or a prisoner?"


	6. Chapter Five: Interrogation

CHAPTER FIVE: Interrogation

In a dark, damp underground chamber, still on the aerial island, Harry assumed, Ron, Ginny (still unconscious), and himself were being held prisoner. The three of them were being kept in separate barred cells, though they were all within eyeshot of each other, as the prison chamber was circular, with cells all around, save for where a doorway led out of the prison to, hopefully, somewhere they had a hope of escape.

Ginny started to stir and moan with discomfort. Harry started. "Ginny! Are you all right?"

She slowly shook off the affects of the earlier blast, and stood up. "Yeah, I'll be fine. Where are we?"

Ron shrugged. "Prison of some kind. Either of you have any idea why we're still alive?" Drooping, he said slowly, "And what about Hermione? Either of you know what happened to her?"

Ginny shook her head. "Not a clue. I've been unconscious for a while, remember? What about you, Harry?"

"Me neither. These people seem like the types to kill on sight, not take prisoners. I have no- AAAAAGGGHHHHH!" Harry screamed in pain as an invisible clamp seemed to close around his mind. He couldn't hear Ron and Ginny screaming, he was in so much pain; the Cruciatus Curse was nothing compared to this.

After a time, the pain stopped, but Harry was still shaken from the after-effects. On his hands and knees, he looked up to see an old man standing in the center of the chamber. He looked somewhat familiar, like something out of a dream. Then the man spoke.

"So, now, Harry Potter, you save me the trouble of tracking you down by coming straight to me. I've just looked at the collective memories of you and your companions of recent events, but I am still not convinced!"

Harry had heard that voice before, but where, and when?

"How did your other companion escape! That trap you laid backfired somehow, didn't it! And you laid several others as well, didn't you! My men are searching for them as we speak, so you've failed! If you'll tell me how I can detect and disable them, I promise to make your deaths as quick and painless as possible!"

Then, suddenly, Harry remembered. "You… You should be dead! You are dead!" Ginny and Ron were looking at him weirdly. "You were that man, that groundskeeper, Frank Bryce! How are you still…" Harry trailed off, putting the pieces together. He nodded his head, understanding and fearful. "Wrath."

Wrath raised his arm and Harry flew through the air, through the bars of his cell, directly into the Sin's grasp. For an old man, he sure was strong; he was holding Harry in the air by the collar of his shirt. "Who told you?" Wrath asked quietly. "Who was it!" he hissed.

Harry did not flinch. "The Great Healer."

Wrath's face contorted with rage. As quickly as he had brought Harry to his hand, he threw him up against the wall in anger, as a child might throw a toy during a tantrum. "How could she! _I_ was supposed to get the first blow in! _I_ was supposed to send in _my_ troops first, not the other way around!"

Ginny piped up, "Look, we don't exactly care for the Great Healer ourselves, but that's no reason to blow up an entire city of innocents!"

Wrath spun around and turned on her. "The world needs to be taught a lesson, girl! They need to understand that there are some of us who would rather see this entire world ended then see that _Healer_ accomplish her goals. And Healing Hands aren't the only ones out there who I need to defeat! Oh no. I have other enemies, yes!"

Ron and Ginny both backed up a bit, frightened by the Sin's delusional speech. "Yes, there are those that would see me destroyed, but I'll get them first!" Pausing, he said quietly, "Maybe, it was one of _them_ that took your friend away."

Ron yelled, "You know who has my wife, then! Tell me, now! Where is she!"

Wrath shrugged. "I don't know. They're good at hiding. They're very good. But _no one_ is perfect! Sooner or later they will reveal themselves, even if we don't see them until they attack in force. They'll bring your wife, Ronald Weasley, and more than likely use her against all of us! But, my dear Ron, Ginny, and Harry, you must not falter! You must help me cleanse the world of its impurities, especially you, Harry!"

Harry, meanwhile, was still recovering from being slammed into the wall, but Wrath brought him to his grasp with another motion of his hand. "You have no idea how important you are, Potter," he said slowly.

Harry was indignant, despite his pain. "I have a fair idea."

Wrath chuckled with horrible mirth. "No, Harry Potter, I don't think you do. Now what do you say? Will you help me, or will you have to die prematurely?"

Harry suddenly had inkling. If he was as important as Wrath claimed he was, then he wasn't about to kill him anytime soon. "You nuke innocent thousands, promise more, and then expect us to _help _you! You're mad!"

Wrath frowned, and then dropped Harry, flinging him back through the bars and into his cell again with a flick of the wrist. Turning to Ginny and Ron, he said, "You two, talk some sense into him, would you? I'll even give you your wands back to force something out of him. Humans can be so creative at times, can't they?" And just like that, Ron and Ginny's wands appeared in their hands. Harry's did not.

Heading for the exit, Wrath said as he walked, "It's your choice, Harry Potter. Your own doom, or the doom of the world around you." He crossed the threshold of the chamber, and a door appeared behind him.

Ron and Ginny simulataneously cried, "Alohomora," aiming their wands at the bars of their cells. Nothing happened. Ginny swore. "Knew it couldn't have been that easy. Can you believe that guy! Asking us to help him blow up the world! You were right, Harry: he is mad!"

Harry stood up and looked at his wife concernedly. "He's mad, yes. But I don't think the world is his enemy. He was particularly angry at the Great Healer, remember? And what about those other 'enemies' of his? Do you think he's a paranoid delusional, or are there forces at work we can't see?"

Ron laughed out loud. "Harry, you dolt! There's _always_ things we can't see! When have we _ever_ been able to see straight!" Harry and Ginny could not help but chuckle at this bit of gallows humor.

"Too true, Ron," Harry said. "The question is, though, are they _our _friends, or our enemies?"

Ron sulked. "Yeah. And who in the world has their hands on Hermione?"


	7. Chapter Six: Out of the Fire

CHAPTER SIX: _Out of the Fire…_

A klaxon sounded, waking Hermione up with a start. She didn't have to wait long for an explanation, as the door to her quarters opened and the old woman was standing there. "What's going on?" Hermione demanded, her voice a mix of confidence and fear.

The old woman looked distant. "We've just been informed of a raid that should be striking this place any minute. We need to leave, now. You will remain our guest, and will accompany me personally. Follow me." It was clearly not a request, for as the old woman turned and set off, a pair of soldiers came to flank either side of the door.

Hermione took her cue and followed the woman, whose name she still did not know. Through the dark corridors they walked until they reached a gigantic hangar, filled with all kinds of combat and transport aircraft. Over at one end, one ship stood out from all the rest; it resembled a zeppelin in a way, but it seemed to be made of a darkish green cloud rather than any sort of physical material. Dying to know what it was, Hermione knew better than to ask.

The old woman, however, did not miss Hermione's curiosity. "You need not worry about that, Hermione Granger. It won't do you any harm as long as you're with us. It's a weapon to be used only as a last resort. Unfortunately, I fear we may be needing it sooner rather than later." She cocked her head over to the unusual ship, where the old man who had seemed quite insane during the initial part of Hermione's interrogation was standing guard, waiting. "My companion will be manning that particular aircraft."

Hermione had the feeling, no, the _certainty_, that this particular thing was far more than anyone let on, and she feared that under that lunatic's control… Hermione didn't want to think about it.

"Ah! Here we are," the old woman said, gesturing ahead of them. There lay a dark green transport plane, at least ten times as large as the largest aircraft Hermione had any knowledge of. It sported multiple weapons turrets, a large cargo and transport bay in the rear, and at the head, a cockpit could be seen through a window as large as the front of a house.

"That's one hell of a command ship you have there," Hermione couldn't help but observe.

The old woman stopped and turned to face Hermione, a stern look on her face. "What makes you think it is a command ship?" her cold voice drawled.

Hermione didn't flinch. "This is obviously a military operation. It makes sense for the largest and most heavily armed vessel to be the one controlling everything. And as you said that this was the plane we'd be boarding, you in charge makes this the command vessel. Simple logic, really." Hermione couldn't help but smirk.

The woman let out a chuckle and a sigh. "Oh, what I would give for a brain like yours, Hermione Granger. It may have been simple logic, but still, I am jealous of your obvious intellect, I must say."

"Thank you, I think," was all that Hermione could think to say. "So, will I be in a brig, or will I be with you in the cockpit, or if you have one, a bridge?"

"I think it will be safe to allow you onto the bridge. I doubt you'd want to cause us any harm, as we're on a mutually beneficial mission." Seeing Hermione's look of confusion, she elaborated, "We may be fleeing an invasion, but we're taking the opportunity to act swiftly, in a way the enemy won't expect. We're heading straight for the aerial island, where hopefully, we can rescue your companions."

A blast of fire came from behind them, and soldiers in glowing white uniforms stormed the hangar bay, opening fire with a barrage of red energy. "Stunning spells," Hermione gasped. "Guns with magic!" The thought was mind-boggling.

All around, soldiers in green darted for various aircraft, and the cavernous ceiling began to rise away, forming an opening out of which it was clear the aircraft were to make their departure (or in this case, escape, Hermione noted with a hint of irony). The soldiers flanking Hermione quickly ushered her onto a ramp into the aircraft. The ramp was already retracting as Hermione raced up it and into a room filled with a combination of parchment, potions, and computer screens. "Some sort of lab," Hermione said to herself. Her two 'escorts' quickly ushered her out of the room and down some hallways, up an elevator, and onto the bridge, along with the old woman.

"Ah. You made it. Excellent. Now then," the old woman pressed a button on a nearby console. "All vessels, initiate Plan Omega, now!" Pressing the button again, the woman looked out the window to see hordes of fighter planes and larger aircraft zooming away from. Sitting down in what was unmistakably a command chair, she said to Hermione, "Did you recognize those soldiers, by the way? The ones storming our facility, I mean."

Hermione shook her head. "No, I didn't recognize them." Something in the old woman's tone suggested something. "But you did recognize them."

The old woman smiled. "Yes, I did. You would have as well, had you noticed that some wore white armbands with stripes of red, blue, green, and silver. Am I right, Hermione Granger?"

Hermione didn't show her shock, but instead let her mind race with the possibilities that this opened up. "Healing Hands," she said and nodded. "The priests certainly don't advertise the fact that they have an army. Even if they did, people would probably line up to join. The Great Healer's magic is indeed that strong."

"Yes, it is. But for now, we have to wait. Unless the Great Healer tells the EU to launch any planes or missiles, we should be safe. And unless I'm mistaken, that is not something we need to worry about. Healing Hands probably wants the Fists of Wrath to annihilate us when we attack, just as much as they hope that we annihilate them."

Hermione turned to face the old woman. "Why is that? What threat do you pose to them? Just who the hell are you!" A gentle smile was her only answer.


End file.
